Caught in the Crossfire
by Ciao Bellas
Summary: AH/AU. Bella and Rosalie are very competitive sisters. When Bella's older sister brings home her new fiance, Edward ,from Yale, things get intense. Will Bella destroy any chance she ever had of having a normal relationship with her sister for Mr.Perfect?
1. Chapter 1

Forbidden Fruit

We're gonna have to see how this turns out for me. I'm doing it through wordpad since my Microsoft Word trial is over and my computer is acting up like a little pain in my rather large rear.

This fic was inspired when I was watching the new ABC Family show Pretty Little Liars. I happened to see the appeal of a certain storyline. If anyone is familiar with the show, you'll pick up which one. I hope you enjoy the story.

I do not own Twilight or anything else in here that is obviously not mine and I mean no offense etc etc. I just like to use them for my own twisted view of fun. Enjoy.

Oh and (not that I think anybody would) buttttttttttttttt... All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization. And said author would be me.

Chapter One:

"Bella." the sing song voice nagged, as my mattress sank under the slight weight put onto it. "Wake up, darling."

_Shut up._

Oh, how I wish I could actually utter those words out loud! But even in my extremely hungover state, I knew that wasn't a good idea to tell my mother.

Esme Cullen - doctor Carliles's perfectly coiffed wife. My mother had a low tolerance for things not being perfect. She had the perfect husband, the perfect home, and at least one perfect child.

Said child was not me.

"Bella, come on. Wake up. I'm leaving to go get your sister from the airport. She's bringing her fiance home." I felt her stand from the bed and rolled over with a slight groan, cracking my eyes open before closing them against the bright sun. Maybe those last five shots of vodka had been a bad idea after all.

Esme sighed in obvious annoyance, "Were you drinking?"

I frowned, sitting up, the white silk sheets of my bed pooling in my lap. Why was my mom so fucking annoying? Could she not just go get the God damn fucking Golden Child from the airport and just leave me alone with my pounding head?

"Mom." I groaned, rolling out of bed, my feet hitting the plush carpet of my bedroom floor, "I just graduated from high school yesterday as valedictorian. Of course I've been drinking." I muttered, walking to the bathroom and frowning at the mirror. _Holy shit! _What was staring back at me was a fucking hot mess.

Normally, I am a fairly attractive girl. But the smeared lipstick and the raccoon eyes were a no go. But the rats nest currently taking up residence in my hair had to be the first thing to go. I grabbed the brush from the vanity and began brushing my hair out slowly, the tangles making me wince.

"Do you not even care?" Esme questioned.

I turned away from the mirror, still brushing the mess that was trying to pass as my hair and faced her again, rolling my eyes. Only Esme would wear Oscar de La Renta to pick up someone from the damn airport.

"About what?" I asked, focusing on not losing what little I had in my stomach and really pissing her off. I had a feeling puking on her pumps would fall under the 'not perfect' category.

"Rosalie coming home! You haven't seen her since the summer before last. She's your sister." she reminded me as if I had somehow forgotten.

But that was the thing about Rosalie. I doubt that anybody who had stumbled across her path had forgotten her. She was gorgeous with long wavy blonde hair, a figure most girls starve themselves for, and blue eyes that just seemed to cut through you. She tended to take after our father in looks. And who could forget her brains? She was an early graduate, accepted into one of the top three colleges in the country, Yale. And how could one forget the year she took off to spend time in Africa to help with cleaning water?

She was perfect, _indeed. _

And while she was my sister and I loved her, she was still my enemy, my competition.

I wasn't exactly a slouch here. I had graduated the top of the class, and much like my sister, I was headed to Yale in the fall. I volunteered at the homeless shelter and the battered woman's shelter. I maintained several after-school clubs and committees, including but not limited to French Club, Latin, Future Business Leaders of America, the yearbook, and the newspaper.

Of course I had gone drinking the night before, what sane person wouldn't? Who wouldn't want to celebrate the freedom from most of that shit?

But while her interests were in politics and sociology, I was going down a route that my parents couldn't quite understand. Literature. They couldn't fathom why I didn't want to change the world and run for office like "_darling_ Rose."

Rosalie Lillian Cullen. I was compared to her in every conceivable way since the day I was born. Was I going to make the world weep with my beauty? No. Would I crawl early like she did? Negative. And would I turn the world on its ear from day one of University, astounding everyone with my charm, wit, and brains? Probably not.

"And she's bringing home her darling fiance. He's studying to be a doctor, just like your father, you know." she crowed like the proud little mother hen she was.

I didn't even attempt to hide my eye roll this time. "Yes, mom. I do believe that you may have mentioned that several times. Including last night at my grad dinner. Thanks for that by the way," I said, turning around and slamming the brush back down on the vanity, annoyance coursing through me.

"Do not pout, Isabella Cullen." she sniffed, looking in the mirror, fluffing her caramel colored curls and flicking an imaginary piece of dust off of her suit, "Your sister has made many accomplishments that I like to brag about, but so do you. And I do." she turned to face me, though I kept my profile to her, glaring in the mirror. She grasped my chin in her perfectly lotioned hands and turned my head to face her. I had the urge to close my eyes in petulance but the more mature side of me won out. Her brown eyes flicked over my face and she smiled. "I love you." she let go of me and stepped back, heading out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom door. "I'm going to send Lucy up to clean your room, it's a mess. And take a shower. You reek of vodka. And don't forget to wash your face, you look awful."

"Thanks, mother." I called sarcastically, sighing loudly and slamming the door to the bathroom shut. It wasn't enough to effectively shut her out.

"Don't slam the doors, Isabella Marie. I expect you to be perfectly presentable for this boy and your sister. I will not have you embarrassing her or us."

I turned on heel and opened up the glass door to the shower, turning on the heat full force. The water hitting the bottom of the marble was effective enough. It dulled her down to a faint mumbling that I could barely hear. I sighed, trying to let some of the agitation that was boiling in my chest release.

All I had heard about since fucking April was Rosalie and her god damn fiance, future Doctor Edward Fucking Masen. I hadn't met the guy yet, as the one time she had brought him home last summer I was conveniently in Italy with my best friend Alice Brandon. I may or may not have waited to know when my sister was due home before I let Alice know I would go with her and our other friends, Angela, Jessica, and Lauren.

The five of us had been friends since middle school. They knew exactly how I felt about my sister and the way she felt about me. See, it would be one thing if Rosalie at least _pretended_ to be oblivious to her perfectness. But that wasn't the case. She goaded me with it, held it above me and taunted. Her snide little comments were one of the main reasons I tended to stay away when she was due in town. It was hard enough working to grow out of the shadow that you were cast in. I didn't need to hear that I was failing at it.

But I was told that any international trips were a no go this year since this was the year that "your darling sister is getting married." I had to stay and meet the damn moron who was fucking dumb enough to want to marry that stuck up bitch.

I almost felt bad for the guy.

Almost.

I had seen a few pictures of him and Rosalie that mom had practically shoved in my face the moment I came home from Italy last summer. It was very much, "Darling, the plane didn't crash while you were on it! Here, look at your sister's lovely boyfriend."

He was attractive, very much so in fact. He had these amazing green eyes, like the best damn Christmas tree color, that green that kinda sucks you in and this very wild bronze-ish hair. No doubt Rosalie had also perfected the Kama Sutra and that's why he had that damned sex hair.

Look wise, he was the opposite of Rose's high school boyfriend, Emmett McCartney. Emmett was fucking massive; attractive in his own way and such a goofball. Rose had dumped him shortly after they had both graduated, stating that he just wasn't focused enough for her. And she had agreed to marry this Edward guy. Fucker had to be just as fucking "driven" (it's the word my dad likes to use for his over achiever golden child) as Rose. Which meant I was going to want nothing to do with his ass. Except to maybe touch his hair. His hair did look pretty awesome.

I stripped off my jeans - that I had apparently no desire to strip out of last night - and threw my blue shirt across the bathroom and onto the white marble counter top of the vanity. I gingerly stepped into the shower, hissing in pain as the practically scalding water hit my skin. I hurriedly grabbed the water knob and twisted some cold water into the mix, relaxing as the water went to a bit below melting-skin-off-bone hot. I grabbed the ridiculously expensive shampoo from Japan, of all places, and squirted the gel into my hands before lathering it into the former birds nest. I supposed I couldn't judge my mother too harshly for flying in the expensive hair product since it did make my hair feel like silk in a matter of moments.

Next, I grabbed the shower gel - strawberry scented, of course - and lathered my body with the white loffa hanging on the shower head. There was something that always has fascinated me about the pink against the white. I think the vibrancy of the one color against the blandness of the other just did something for me.

As I was rinsing off, the door to my bathroom slammed open and made a thud against the wall. I jumped, covering my breasts with my arm and clearing a space off of the fog covered glass. I jumped back when a very familiar pair of blue eyes stared back at me, too close for my comfort.

"Holy fucking shit," I screeched loudly, letting my arm drop, "Ever heard of knocking, pixie?"

Alice just laughed and grabbed the blue towel off of the hook on the wall, and handed out to me as I shut off the water.

"Have I ever knocked?" she questioned, walking backwards and hopping onto the counter of the vanity.

I racked my brains, "I think there was that one time in seventh grade."

"I simply didn't know any better at the time." she shrugged, "I have rectified that mistake."

Of the five of us, Alice and I were definitely the most close. In fact, it was originally the two of us before we met Angela, and then picked up Lauren and then Jessica. We had all bonded rather quickly, finding the most insane things in common. Like our love for Oreos and peanut butter. Together. Best damn thing in the world. Almost better than sex.

Almost.

"Obviously," I scoffed, wrapping the towel around me and stepping out of the shower, water streaming down my neck and back as I hadn't bothered wringing out my hair of the water. I glanced in the mirror and rolled my eyes for the third time since I had woken up. I still looked like a raccoon. Only now, I looked like a drowned raccoon.

"Oh, lovely eye make up, Bells." Alice giggled, dropping from the counter and landing on her feet in a fluid motion.

Graceful bitch.

But that was Alice. Graceful and lovely. She had porcelain features, really. She didn't need a stitch of make-up, yet she wore it anyway. She ate atrociously but had a tiny dancer's body that never seemed to gain an ounce. She was petite and elegant. Why she didn't have a boyfriend, I didn't know. Or rather, yes, I did actually know.

She was holding out for her brother's best friend, Jasper Whitlock. He was cute in a farmer kind of way, I supposed. And very polite. She could do worse.

I simply gave her the finger and walked into my bedroom where I saw Jessica lying on my bed going through the latest Cosmo for tips on "How To Blow Him Better" and Lauren going through my closet, looking through my bathing suits. Angela was lounging on the floor, her eyes closed, possibly feeling even more hungover than I was.

"What are you guys even doing here?" I asked, dropping the towel, while walking over to my dresser and opening the top drawer. We were completely past modesty by this point in our relationship. I pulled out a pair of green boyshort underwear and was reaching for a bra when something hit me in the back.

"We decided in honor of your sister coming home that we're going to have a swimming party." Lauren said when I turned and picked up the black bathing suit that she had thrown at me.

I looked at each of the girls and finally registered that they were wearing their swimming attire. Short shorts, and tight tops that barely covered their actual swim suits.

I sighed, tempted but not wanting to completely piss of my mom. My dad wouldn't be in town to protect me until tomorrow as he was in Seattle for some sort of medical conference or whatever. I told them as much.

"Come on," Jessica urged, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear. "You're completely stressing over having to see Rosalie _The Perfect_ again."

"At least get in the hot tub for a bit." Alice said "They aren't even due back for another hour or two. Let's hot tub and then we'll get out of your hair." She stuck her index finger out and stuck it out for me to meet with my own. "Pixie Promise." I rolled my eyes and smirked, touching fingers with her.

Back in freshman year, I had told Alice my biggest secret at the time, about my crush on Mike Newton (my taste has since improved). She had giggled and made jokes about telling Jessica and Lauren. I began freaking out and had stuck my finger in her face telling her in no uncertain terms that if she told anybody she would turn up (quote) "A dead ass pixie." She had jabbed my fingertip with hers and had said "Pixie Promise." It had been our thing ever since.

I was hungover and a dip in the hot tub did sound appealing.

I conceded and slipped into the black bikini, glancing in the full length mirror for a second. Not bad. I was no Rosalie with curves that just wouldn't quit, but I was slim and toned. The black of the bikini went well with giving my skin a subtle glow. Props for being pale.

I grabbed a towel out of my closet and the five of us made our way down the stairs of the Cullen Mansion and down into the foyer. We walked into the kitchen, and Alice went ahead and opened the sliding door that led to the wooden patio and pool. I paused as the others went out the door and grabbed some water. First rule of hangovers: dehydration rectification.

I made my way outside and set the towels on the tiki bar, keeping the waters in hand. The backyard may have been my favorite area of the entire property. It was closed off from any potentially nosy neighbors with huge stone walls that were made to look pretty, by being hidden by miniature palm trees and plants. The whole place just felt like an oasis, right down to the pool house to the left that, sometimes, hid tequila for me and my friends.

I smirked at the fact that Jessica and Lauren were already in the hot tub with the water churning, while Alice and Angela were laying out in two of the cushioned lawn chairs that we had. I set a cold bottle of water on Angela's stomach, becoming a little concerned that she hadn't said anything since I had seen her.

"Thanks." she mumbled, peeking at me with her green eyes, before closing them again.

I sat on the edge of her chair by her feet, picking them up and placing them in my lap completely unconcerned. I know that a lot of people have a problem with touching people's feet or people touching their feet, but it has never bothered me in the slightest. "On a scale of one to ten, how fucking hung over are you right now?"

"Fucking ten." she muttered, taking a tentative sip of the water before closing the cap and sitting it on the cement ground beside her. "I am never fucking drinking again."

"Liar." Alice laughed, "But you were pretty out of it last night. You both were."

"Yeah yeah." I muttered. "Let's get in the damn hot tub."

Angela moaned and grumbled about how she didn't want to move, until both Alice and I grabbed a hand and hauled her ass off of the chair. We made our way up the steps. We had a kidney shaped pool that started out shallow and moved deeper and deeper until it hit eight feet. There was a circular raised hot tub in the middle, making it possible to jump out of the hot tub at any time and jump into the refreshing cool salt waters of the pool.

The five of us were scattered around the inside of the hot tub with our heads lounging against the cement, tilted towards the sun for the better part of an hour, before I decided that I was ready to jump into the pool.

"I'm gonna swim. Anybody else?" I questioned, standing and perching on the edge of the circular ledge, the warm water sliding down my body and landing in little puddles at my feet.

They all let out negative answers so I simply dived in. I loved the feeling of jumping from the almost too intense heat into the cooler water. It was like a shock or a jolt to my entire system. I swam to the edge of the pool on the deep side, before coming up for air. I pushed the hair out of my face before turning my back to the edge and diving back under. I simply loved swimming and being underwater. It was all peaceful. In the water I didn't have any problems. It seemed that I didn't have any time to just be, anymore. My whole life was trying to overachieve, to try to catch up to something, someone, who I may never be able to catch up to. But, in that moment, I could forget all of that.

I swam in the pool back and forth, shallow to deep, deep to shallow, over and over, just relaxing, tiring my body out. I had already swum out any extra aggression that I was holding towards my sister, her fiance, and my mother. I was trying to predict what time it was, while swimming a final lap into the deep end, remaining underwater. I decided that it was probably time to send the girls home so that I could go get ready to meet the guest. I broke into the surface, my hair luckily staying out of my eyes so I could open them.

I came face to face with two pairs of shoes. Two of a man, and two of a woman. My eyes slowly slid up from shoes, to pants, to torso's, to chests and, finally, to faces.

Holy fuck.

It was my sister and her fiance.

Her fiance who apparently didn't photograph too well if he came off as merely attractive. He was...panty dropping. Utterly and completely ovary exploding.

I think I was madly in lust with this man.

He smiled at me, crouching down, and sticking out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Edward Masen. Bella, right?"

So, there's chapter one. I appreciate constructive criticism, I find it helps a lot.

Much love,

Heather


	2. Chapter 2

Forbidden Fruit: Chapter Two

The story will alternate first person point of view depending on who I want to go at the time. Thank you to my beta pine and apple without whom this story would have multiple typos and many many mistakes.

As always I do not own anything pertaining to Twilight. No disrespect is meant to SM.

And again: All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization. And said author would be me.

Edward's POV

Planes were not for me.

I knew this. I've known this since the first time I ever stepped foot on a plane, back when I was nine and flew to New York to see my grandparents. I spent the entire flight with my head buried in the infamous airline supplied barf bags. So it was with great relief when the American Airlines plane landed at the terminal and we rolled to a stop.

I unclutched Rosalie's hand and she sighed, making a show of stretching and wiggling her fingers. _She_ flew like a pro-requested the window seat and everything. But that was Rose. Almost completely fearless;meeting a challenge head on. Something as insignificant as flying thousand of feet in the air with sure death just a mere drunken pilot away was a piece of cake for her.

But that was one of the things that I loved about her. She was driven, focused, and fearless. She was gorgeous and she had brains. A rare combination, but one that I had been lucky enough to find.

The fasten seatbelt sign went off again and the stewardess came over the loud system, thanking us again for flying American Airlines and to have an excellent stay. Rosalie and I remained seated as the other passengers rose and jostled, vying for a way to get both themselves and their overhead luggage out and off of the plane. I was studying to be a doctor and I still hadn't quite mastered that one, so more power to them.

I turned on my own cell phone while we were waiting, not at all surprised to see a message from my mom telling me to call her as soon as we landed, to let her know that we had arrived alright.

My mother was one of a kind: Beautiful, loving, nurturing, soft, encouraging. I couldn't have asked to have grown up with anyone better for a mother. She never pressured me to succeed but was always immensely proud when I did. Her pride was what pushed me to keep going, to keep pushing myself to strive to be the best. All I wanted to do was please her. I never wanted to make her upset or disappointed; I guess in a way I have to credit a lot of my success to her. If I hadn't been trying to please her all my life, I never would have pushed myself so hard as to get into Yale.

And without Yale, I never would have met Rosalie.

It was freshman orientation and I was a regular scared little shit, hovering in the background, listening to all of the older students talk us through typical college bullshit. Most everyone else was like me:Cowering, trying not to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves, listening on tips on how to survive our first year at a major university.

But not her. Not the beautiful blonde in the very front, asking the questions the rest of us were too big of pussies to ask, including us men. But that was Rosalie. If she wanted answers, she'd get them. She'd pretty much do anything short of grabbing you by the nuts and twisting to get what she wanted out of you.

I had seen her by the coffee cart after orientation and had to give my pussy ass a pep talk to convince myself to go over and ask her on a date. I had run my fingers through my hair, unmanageable as always, trying to calm my nerves. It didn't really help. But what the fuck ever. I marched up to her, tapped her on the shoulder. I was completely not prepared for when she turned around. I thought she was beautiful from afar. But upclose...she was astounding. Absolutely gorgeous.

She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow at me, obviously questioning why I was touching her, why I was even approaching her. I was overwhelmed. So I immediately blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

"Would you like to go out for coffee?"

She looked surprised at first and then both eyebrows rose as she smirked, and glanced down pointedly at the cup of coffee in her hands before looking back up at me.

Well wasn't I the worlds biggest douche?

"Right. Well, never mind then." I stammered, turning around and walking away in a damn hurry. Well, that was fucking embarrassing. I was walking away, mentally berating myself on my massive stupidity and pondering my complete and utter obliviousness, when Rosalie had caught up to me. She grabbed my shoulder and whirled me around, surprisingly strong for a woman.

"Hi." she smiled, staring me straight in the eyes. Her eyes were icy blue and seemed to just be able to drill inside of me, able to see everything I was thinking.

It was a little alarming.

"Hey." I stammered, the English language once again failing me. Or maybe it was my brain. Either way, I had a feeling it was fucking me over.

She smiled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and shifting her weight onto one foot, and I felt a small bubble of hope bubbling up in my chest. And then she spoke. "I just wanted to let you know that, I think it was really cute that you just tried to ask me out."

"Cute?" I questioned, feeling that little hope bubble deflate with a nice little 'pop'.

"Yeah," she nodded, still smiling as if she hadn't a care in the world, while I was praying that the earth would open up and swallow me whole.

I wasn't getting my wish.

"A lot of guys don't come up to me. I think they think I'm too intense or something. So, I think it's really cute and really nice that you did. Brave even."

With each of her words, the hope bubble ressurected and began to inflate more and more. And brave? I could live with brave. Brave was not a bad thing.

"And I just wanted to say," she continued, oblivious to my internal ramblings...thank god, "That I would love to go out to coffee with you. Maybe tonight?" she asked.

This would be a good time to speak, but my mouth was simply not taking orders from my brain. So, I relied on nodding. Luckily, my brain was still sending signals to my neck muscles.

"Great." she turned on her heel and began walking towards the gates that led to the dorm rooms, "I'll meet you here at six." she called over her shoulder.

And the rest was history. A hectic, competitive, intense history.

Rosalie and I had been practically inseparable since our first date and had even gone on several vacations together over the course of our two year long relationship including, to her parents, my parents, and a memorable trip to Hawaii.

That had been fun. WInk wink, nudge nudge.

The trip to Chicago, our last trip before this one in fact, had been the most memorable. The night I had proposed to Rosalie, ring in pocket, sweat rolling off of me in waves, had been the most frightening thing I had ever convinced myself to do. I was certain she would say no, certain that she thought she could do better.

But even so, if there's one thing that my relationship with Rosalie had taught me, it would have been to take chances. So I did.

Right there, in front of my parents and friends, in a restaurant I could barely afford to take her to, I knelt down on one knee, revealed the brand new ring (something else I could barely afford) and asked her to marry me. She stared at me for a long time before smiling and throwing her arms around me and nodding her head vigorously.

"We're so comaptiable." she gushed, "It'll work out, I'm positive."

I wasn't so sure how I felt about her calling us compatiable. Compatiable is what you wanted to be with a room-mate or a friend. Not exactly the word you're looking for when you pop the question.

But that was besides the point. We were now engaged. Someday in the soon future she would be Cullen. I was going to be a married, taken man. Somewhere, my mother was weeping from joy. She had been bugging me to "get off the market" for years.

The people in the cramped cabin were finally thinning out. I unbuckled my seatbelt and rose with a stretch, my white t-shirt riding up some. I tugged it down, offering Rosalie a hand to help her out of her seat. She brushed it off with a smooth, soft hand and rose on her own. That was Rosalie. Independent to a fault. She had, in fact, in no uncertain terms told me that she was not going to become some docile housewife who lived to eat, breathe, and sleep my every movement.

Like I would want a wife like that.

That's what I liked about Rose. She was a challenge. Sometimes, too much of one.

Grabbing out bags from the overhead apartment, the two of us exited the plane, the stewardess once again bidding us an excellent stay. I smiled in politeness and nodded my head, Rose doing the same from in front of me.

The next few minutes were a blur of people, lights, and noises. Not only do I not enjoy flying, I do not enjoy airports. So many people in one place, cramped together, jostling for room, no sense of personal boundaries. Fun shit right there.

Before I knew it, we were standing just outside of the well air conditioned airport waiting for Rosalie's mother to show up. I liked Esme Cullen, she was nice. A little stuck up and a tad unintentionally condescending maybe, but nice enough. Her dad was nice and laid back, putting people at ease automatically within minutes of meeting them. It had certainly helped the first time that I had come home with his daughter. Or rather, his eldest daughter.

I had yet to meet the one they called Bella, though Rosalie had talked about her often, mostly in a competitive way. Apparently she had been "abroad with some dear dear friends" when I had come to visit last summer(at least according to Esme). With the way Rose talked about her, I was highly expecting a hoity toity stuck up bitch that was constantly trying to one up Rosalie and always got her way.

I heard Rosalie huff next to me and toss back her blonde waves. I knew once we got to the foot tapping stage there would be no turning back before her inner bitch immerged. That was a side of Rose that _no-one_ wanted to see. I glanced to my watch to find that we had been outside waiting for Mrs. Cullen for fifteen minutes. I frowned. It wasn't like her to be late. Rosalie hadn't gotten her punctuality from her father.

I saw Rosalie's left stiletto clad foot rise in its first tap when two massive burly arms wrapped around her torso in a bear hug, causing her to shriek.

"That wasn't a foot tap starting, now was it Rosie?" a gruff voice asked as the bear man set her down.

She turned and shrieked again, this time in delight before tackling the man in a hug. "Emmet!" she screeched, throwing her arms around his broad shoulders. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off of the ground and swaying her back and forth.

"Welcome back, Rosie Posey." he smirked, setting her back down and leaning away from her. He caught sight of me and his smile faltered a little before coming back even broader, making the skin around his blue eyes crinkle. "You must be the fiance." he said, slinging an arm around Rosalie's shoulders and leaning forward to shake my hand. I leaned forward and placed my hand in his offered one, hoping like hell he didn't do the 'I'm going to squeeze your hand really hard to size you up' thing.

Hoping was for morons. He squeezed my hand so hard that I thought I heard some of my bones actually scream in protest. I squeezed back though I'm not sure it actually accomplished anything.

"This is him," Rosalie confirmed, stepping out of the bear man's embrace and coming to stand by me, clutching my arm in her hands. "What are you doing here?"

Bear Man aka Emmet rocked back on his heels and chuckled, "You didn't think that your mother would come to the airport without a male escort, now did you?" he asked cocking his head to the side.

"No," a crisp female voice said from directly behind us. We turned and were faced with Esme Cullen, from her perfectly coiffed hair to her immaculate pedicure. She embraced first Rosalie in a brief hug and then me, her cold lips brushing across my cheek. "Rose knows me better than that."

Emmet picked up Rosalie's luggage and began walking forward in the parking lot. I grabbed my own, holding Rosalie's hand in mine while we crossed.

"What, no Bella?" Rosalie asked once we were settled into the car and pulling out into the freeway traffic, "Or is she 'abroad' again this year?" she asked, the word abroad coming out like it was a dirty word.

"She was just feeling a little lazy this morning. She did graduate yesterday." Esme said.

"No doubt hungover."

"Cut her some slack, Rose." Emmet called from the front seat. He had refused to let Rosalie have it, stating that since she rode first class here she would have to go coach for once. "Do you remember what we did when we graduated?"

"No," she scoffed.

"Exactly."

The first time I had seen the Cullen home I had been blown away by the sheer mass and beauty of the vast estate. They were quite obviously made of money and it showed from the general size of the house alone. It was at least three stories high and a half an acre long. It was intimidating. After awhile of that first summer there, the charm wore off. I did much coming and going that seeing it several times a day, day in and day out, made the house seem less grand. As we pulled up again, I remembered the first feeling of panic and awe that I had felt. I felt a familiar stirring of that in a more muted form. It was still breathtaking, but it just didn't stir the same feeling in me that it once did, at least not to the same degree. We exited the car and grabbed our things, the four of us wondering into the house. A blast of AC hit us, causing me to shiver slightly.

"Oh," Esme said, as Rose and I made our way for the stairs to deposit our things and Emmet wondered in the direction of where I remembered the kitchen to be. "Just leave that out for now, I want you to see your sister and introduce Edward to her."

"Why?" Rosalie asked bluntly.

Esme sighed exasperatedly and her hand flew up to flutter around her neck, a habit I had noticed last summer. "Rose." she warned, "Just do as I say."

Rosalie rolled her eyes and placed her bags at the foot of the stairs. "Where is she?" she asked, annoyance barely concealed.

"Damn," I hear Emmet whoop from the kitchen, "I have _got _to start coming over more often."

Rose, Esme, and I made our way into the kitchen, Esme mumbling something about an apple pie and saw Emmet standing by the sliding glass door looking out into the backyard, a cookie hanging loosely in his hand.

I followed his eyeline and got an eye full of five teenage girls, four lounging and relaxing in the hot tub, one in the pool swimming back and forth.

Well, shit. This was a new addition from last summer.

"Found her." Rosalie said, indifferently.

"Rose." Esme sighed again.

My eyes flittered over each girl in turn, looking for the one I had seen in the pictures. She wasn't in the hot tub, so that left the girl in the black bikkini, swimming back and forth.

"Fine." Rosalie grumbled with a sigh of her own. She elbowed Emmet out of her way, grabbing my hand in the process and drug me outside. I almost stumbled trying to keep up with her as she strode across the concrete, towards the deep end of the pool.

"Hello Rosalie." a petite, raven haired girl called lazily from the hot tub, "Welcome home."

"Thanks." Rose smiled, before settling her gaze into the water where her apparent sister was swimming back towards the deep end. Her strokes were calculated and precise, each kick setting off toned legs, each cut through the water revealing graceful arms. It was literally like something out of a damn movie, in slow motion and shit.

She slowly broke the surface, her hair pushed back from her face and her eyes fluttering open, her lips opening in a small 'o' as she brought air into her lungs.

I knew the exact moment she noticed us. I could practically feel her eyes burning into the me, past the denim of my jeans and through the cotton of my shirt, before settling on my face.

Well, didn't good genes run in this family. She was just as gorgeous as Rosalie, in a completely different way. While Rosalie was a cool beauty, all sharp angles and piercing eyes, her sister was...warmth. Dark hair, warm brown eyes, full pouty lips, heart shaped face.

Gorgeous.

Pushing that thought away, I knelt down next to the pool and smiled at her. This would probably be the good time to introduce myself like a normal human being.

"Hi, I'm Edward Masen. Bella, right?"

This will be the last time that the chapters will be a recap of basically the previous chapter but in different POV's. At least, for the time being. I can't forsee it happening again any time soon.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Reviews are love.

xoxo,

Heather


	3. Chapter 3

The official disclaimer...again. I do not own any part of Twilight. I only own the naughty thoughts in my head and the desire to make Stephanie Myers characters act them out. No infringement is intended.

Also: All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization. And said author would be me.

Bella Cullen:

Pretty. Pretty boy...man. Pretty man engaged to my sister. The world was a cruel, cruel bitch.

Hoping that I wasn't drooling into the pool, I grabbed the pretty God-like man's hand and shook it once. There was no electric jolt, no sudden realization that I loved him. Well, maybe my ovaries did. They were drooling a little...and a bit. He stood, keeping my hand in his, and heaved, attempting to pull me out of the pool. I braced the bottom of my feet against the cement side that was hidden beneath the warm salt water, and pushed my weight against it, allowing the bronze haired pretty more leverage to pull me out.

He clutched onto my hands tightly, pulling just a little bit more and successfully got me out of the warm wet of the pool onto the scorching hot of the cement of surrounding it. Sucking air in through my teeth, I bounced from foot to foot for a moment, my eyes squinting shut trying to adjust to the almost blistering heat emanating from the hot gravel. I didn't notice that I was still clutching my sister's fiancé's hands until he squeezed mine, his large pale hands almost completely engulfing them.

I opened my eyes and was lost in the perfect Christmas tree color of his eyes, so much more vibrant and noticeable than in the pictures. The skin around his eyes scrunched a bit as a slow smile came over his face and he released my hands and draped an arm around my sister. The sister that I was just now really taking notice of. She was looking as gorgeous as ever: blonde curls cascading down her back, flawless porcelain skin, beautiful flashing eyes.

"Rosalie." I nodded, deciding to not hug her. I was getting the feeling that she wouldn't be thrilled if I got her likely expensive outfit all wet. She was like my mother in that way. Perfection at all costs.

"Hello, Bella," she greeted, a polite smile gracing her perfect lips. "Did you enjoy your trip last summer?"

That was how we were going to play this? Polite strangers? Fine with me.

"I did. Thank you." I answered, wringing my hair out, smiling in satisfaction as some got on Mr. Perfect's shoes.

I think that name fit him. He was obviously excellent looking, and if Rosalie decided that he was good enough for her, he had to have reached some epic proportion of perfection that only she herself had yet to achieve.

"Congratulations on your engagement," I added, almost like an afterthought as my eyes slid back over to Mr. Perfect. I addressed him, "And to answer you, yes, I am Bella." I held my hand out again, for him shake. He did so, his pale hand once again practically eclipsing mine. My ovaries screamed in delight. They were mad at me lately. With as much stress as I had been under with the end of school and finals, I had been neglecting to find a suitable buddy to satisfy them and had just been too busy to take care of business myself. I had a feeling that as soon as I had a moment to myself, I would make the time to get some much needed release. Even if I had to break out my old faithful vibrator. It was my personal belief, one that ever girl should have. Sometimes, a guy just wasn't enough.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella," Edward said, his hand releasing mine immediately to rest at his side.

"Likewise." I nodded.

The three of us feel into an awkward silence that the blind man in New Jersey could have foreseen. I stood there wishing I could think of something to say, anything. But I never felt comfortable in the presence of Rosalie, so all of my random tidbits – like the fact that the longest word you could spell on one row of letters on a keyboard was typewriter, or that in every deck of cards the King of Hearts is suicidal – were useless in this situation. But in the end, I was saved by a magical fairy...or rather a soaking wet pixie.

Alice had made her way over to us, breaking into our little tense trio and wrapping her small arm around my waist. "Bella!" she admonished, jokingly, "Aren't you going to introduce us to the obvious improvement to the house's interior?" she asked, her eyes scanning Edward in a critical manner, before smiling, deeming him as perfectly acceptable. It was Alice's firm belief that the way a man dressed said a lot about his character. And Edward was apparently full of it in his green shirt – which my ovaries duly noted, was one) a button-up which meant should I somehow lose my mind and decide to literally rip his shirt off, it would be simple, and two) really made the Christmas eyes pop-and dark fitted jeans. I'm sure if he were to turn around, we'd probably get a nice view of an ass you could bounce quarters off of.

Oh, how I was waiting for him to turn around.

"I'm sorry, Alice," Rosalie said, smiling oh so sugary sweetly, clasping her left hand on Edward's arm, bling prominently on display, sparkling in the sun like a freaking glob of glitter was glued onto her perfect dainty little finger."This is my _fiancé_, Edward Masen." Stressing fiancé as if she had created the meaning of the word and no one before her had ever done it. "Darling, this is Alice. Get used to seeing her face and her perky little attitude. She practically lives here," she said, her voice taking on a dismissive tone.

Alice plastered a smile on her face and leaned forward, releasing me and offering her hand to Edward, which he took and shook. "That I am," she confirmed, her smile still firmly in place. Alice wasn't the hugest fan of Rosalie either. She tended to try to stay out of our drama, but sometimes, the way Rose spoke to her, made Alice...bristle. She was relatively hard to anger, which was strange seeing as she was so excitable. But she was as sweet as they came and just such a ball of contagious energy, even in the still semi hangover state that I was in.

"I'll be the one you'll probably see the most of," Alice said, retaking her position next to me, chattering away to Edward as if it her were mission to be his personal tour guide. "The lazy whores over in the hot tub are Angela, Jessica, and Lauren." She pointed to each of them all in turn, and they each smiled and waved their greetings. He nodded politely at them, his hair glinting in the sun, illuminating the red and gold strands. It looked like a fire was itching to break out on his scalp. It was almost mesmerizing. I found myself transfixed, wondering if hair like his would be coarse. For some reason, I assumed it should be something to offset the sheer beauty of it. My fingers itched to touch it, to run it through my hands just to satisfy the thirst of my curiosity.

Rosalie caught my eye, one of her eyebrows arched in a condescending question, a smirk playing at her pouty lips. It's when I noticed that everyone was looking at me, that I realized that a question had been directed my way while I was pondering the texture of Edward's hair.

"I'm sorry, I totally spaced," I said, turning my attention to Alice, trying to ignore all thoughts of Mr. Perfect and his curious hair, "What?"

She grasped my chin with her fingers, turning my head back towards Rosalie and Edward.

"Um, Rosalie had some news," Alice said, her voice oddly reserved. I snuck a glance at my friend's in the churning water and saw that their faces were masks of surprised disgust. My gaze flickered to Mr. Perfect and was suddenly anxious when I noted that he looked massively uncomfortable, his Christmas eyes trained on the still blistering hot cement under our feet. I set my eyes on Rosalie, who was fighting a smirk, and just barely containing it, though I gave her an A for effort.

"You're pregnant?" I guessed, taking a stab in the dark, considering I really had no idea of what she had said a few moments ago. A second Golden child would certainly make Esme thrilled. After all, how could two perfect people not make a perfect offspring?

The smirk fell from her face and a look of stricken horror crossed it, before settling into neutral. "No. I was saying," she cleared her throat, stiffening her posture. I knew this pose. It was the pose she took when she was about to do public speaking. "I've discussed it with mother and daddy, and we've all decided that since you room is on the third floor, furthest away from everyone, that Edward and I should have your room and you could take mine on the second floor."

My jaw fell open. What the flying monkey fuck? I could literally feel the anger rolling in. Mom, dad and Rosalie had decided what was going to happen with my room and my things? Were you fucking kidding me? Well, beat me over the head with a fucking cast iron pan.

"I'm sorry; I must have heard you wrong. I thought you just said that you were going to kick me out of the only bedroom I've known since I was five so that you and your fan-fucking-tastic fiancé could bang like bunnies so no one can hear you," I said, my voice getting higher with each word until I was practically screeching at a not particularly attractive decibel.

Rosalie let go of Edward's arm and flashed me a cold, impersonal smile. "You heard right, baby sister. Maybe not as crudely as your brain processed it, but yes." Her eyes narrowed. She seemed like a cold, untouchable statue. "Edward and I are a couple. We need our privacy and your room is the best one for it."

I tried again, the unfairness of it all still sending crashes of rage pulsing through my veins. "Why not take a guest bedroom on the third floor? It's not like there aren't plenty of them up there," I snapped.

She cocked her head, her blonde curls falling to one side of her perfect stupid fucking head, "Mother did suggest that. But then I pointed out that you probably wouldn't want to hear some of the..." she paused, as if thinking, and then pursed her lips to fight a smirk, "Late night noises."

The rage I felt paused and retracted, disgust taking its place.

Ew,ew ,ew ,ew,ew,ew,ew.

"Ew," Alice said bluntly, her small features twisting into a look of disgust, too. It didn't escape my notice that she was now eyeing Edward's pants-the upper thigh/crotch area- in a way that in was no way fashion related, though she seemed more thoughtful and curious then disgusted by that.

"So, really. I'm thinking of you, Bella," Rosalie concluded, clasping her hands in front of her, an angelic, serene smile on her face. I wasn't stupid. I knew the maliciousness that lurked beneath that lovely face.

"Oh, I'm so flipping thrilled!" I snarled, whirling around and storming towards the house, screaming the first thing that came to mind, "MOM!"

I heard the loud scramble behind me and I could only assume it was the remaining three of my friend's finally getting their asses out of the hot tub to come after me. Lauren and Jessica weren't ones to miss a good throw down, even if it was verbal. And Angela was like a mother hen, always trying to soothe ruffled feathers and calm frayed nerves. Alice was the one I could really count on to mimic my emotions. If I was happy, she was happy. If I was pissed, she was pissed for me. And right now, I had a pretty good feeling she was borderline livid.

Rosalie hadn't been lying when she said Alice practically lived at our house. My room was practically her room. She even had her own drawer in my dresser and her own section of my closet. I think she was taking this one a tad personally.

My feet didn't make it far into the house – practically weeping in relief to be off of the scorching heat of the cement surrounding the pool – before they were swept off of the ground and the air in my lungs was forced out as my stomach made contact with a larger huge shoulder. I screeched, my hands scrambling for purchase before I wrapped my arms around Emmett's waist. It could only by that baboon; I didn't know anybody else who was that solid and massive.

"Damn, Baby B!" he bellowed, smacking me in the ass. The same ass that was stuck up in the air for all to see since he had hauled me over his shoulder. "You just keep looking better and better."

"Ok, one," I gasped, since air was not easily coming to me, "Take it down to your indoor voice, Emmett. And while you're at it, set me the fuck down, you monkey!"

He laughed his booming laugh, but made no move to put me on my feet. "Silly, Bella. Was that not you I just heard bellowing for your mommy?"

"Emmet," I heard Rosalie sigh from somewhere behind my view of Emmett's ass, "Kindly put my sister down, asshat."

I could faintly hear a deep, musical laugh over Emmett's loud chuckles, "Asshat?" Edward asked, softly.

"Speaking of asses!"

I yelped as Emmett smacked mine again. Thank God he didn't put any force into his 'love taps' or I would be seriously fucking weeping. "You have such a pretty one, Baby B."

"Oh, God, that is just so inappropriate," I moaned, straightening my back out and looking over my shoulder at the group that had assembled in the kitchen. Edward and Rosalie were the closest to me and the bafoon, my friends crowded close around them. I noted that Alice was now comfortable enough with to wrap her arm around his, her amused eyes on me. I slid my gaze to MP, and noticed as his eyes flew up from a part of my lower anatomy and looked me in the eyes. I flashed him a smirk before I gazed down at the top of Emmett's curly black hair before smacking him in the back of the head. "You dated my sister, you dipshit," I said getting back to the topic on hand and choosing to, for the moment, ignore the fact that Rosalie's fiancé had been checking me out.

Emmett waggled his eyebrows at me, his brown eyes flashing with humor, "We did more than date." He turned his gaze back to Rosalie. "Isn't that right, Rosie Posie?"

"Oh, jeez," I groaned, collapsing so that my head was back by his ass.

The rest of the group, minus Rosalie and me, laughed as if it were the funniest thing since Dane Cook.

The yuck fest was broken up when my mother decided to make her entrance, clearing her throat and staring at Emmett in a fond, yet highly confused way.

"Hello, girls," she greeted my friends with a nod and a polite smile. They returned the greeting, Alice the most enthusiastic. Esme grabbed a knife from one of the kitchen drawers and a lemon from the fruit basket, before quickly dicing it into fours.

She turned her eyes, so much like mine, back towards Emmett. "Emmett," she said sternly, pouring herself a glass of water before squeezing the juice from one of the lemons into it and dropping the wedge into the glass with a plunk. I braced my elbows on the back of Emmett's back and propped my head up to keep the blood from rushing to my brain. "Kindly tell me why you have my youngest flung over your shoulder as if she were dead cattle."

Emmett's shoulder repeatedly dug into my ribs as he chuckled, "I was just admiring the work of art that your young daughter has become."

Esme flashed me a grin before smiling beautifully at Emmet. "Were you not cutting off her air supply, I'm sure she'd thank you."

I stumbled as I was abruptly sat back on my feet, gasping at the air in relief and rubbing my now sort of tender stomach. Freaking bafoon.

"Mom," I said strongly once my wits had regathered in my brain."What is this about Rosalie and Edward staying in _my_ room?"

I might have been blowing this out of proportion and may have been acting like a spoiled brat, but it was my room, dammit! It had been my room throughout all of mine and Rosalie's fights, through losing my virginity, the first time I got high, the first time I got drunk. It housed the place of my first kiss, first slumber party. That room was filled with memories of my childhood and I felt by having Rosalie and Edward there would somehow...contaminate it.

Especially if they were going to be having animal sex. Bleh.

Esme's smile faltered a bit and the hand not holding the glass of water went to flutter around her throat. Nervous habit. That was the only thing to see that she was even the slightest bit nervous though. A cold, impersonal smile came to rest on her mouth. "Yes. Your father and I discussed it and we decided that Rose made some valid points when she requested that you switch rooms for the summer."

I felt Emmett take a step back as my posture stiffened. "Oh. And did anyone think about bringing me into this discussion? Do I not deserve that much respect?" I asked, my voice freezing. I had learned a thing or two over the years watching the original ice queen and then the ice princess.

"Don't be dramatic, Isabella," my mother demanded, her voice matching mine, her eyes flashing irritation. "It's just a bedroom. It's only going to be your sister's for as long as she and Edward are here. The summer. Then we will restore it back to yours." She sniffed. "Besides, it's not like you'll be here for long after they leave anyway. You're going to Yale two weeks after that."

I could feel the control I had slipping. "You are completely missing the point. I am not a child that you can shuffle around as you please. I am an adult. That is my room, filled with my things. You made a decision based on Rosalie and Rosalie alone! Surprise, surprise!"

"You're right. You're not a child. So stop acting like a petulant one."

I stiffened again, going completely rigid. Before I could open my mouth to say anything else, someone else in the room spoke up.

Mr. Perfect to the rescue.

"I don't mind staying in Rosalie's room. It's obvious that Bella was blindsided and does not want to give up her room. I can see her reasons. I am perfectly fine sleeping wherever."

"Edward," Rosalie cooed, wrapping her arm around his waist, "It's fine. Really. Bella is just throwing a fit. She can't always get her way. How else is she going to learn this if mom isn't strong?"

My jaw dropped open. BITCH. Stupid, perfect, frigid bitch.

It took every ounce of control I had not to react to Rosalie's statement. With fists clenched at my side I shot her a frosty smile and a hair toss before turning my back on her.

"Fine," I said to my mother. "I'll start moving my things out immediately." The mature side of me was trying really, really hard to keep calm and not say anything stupid.

But sometimes that's just not me.

"Or do I not get to have my things? I mean, she already has my room, why shouldn't she have the things that fill it?"

"Enough, Bella," my mother finally snapped. Well, snapping for her. Her voice went an octave higher and her fingers gripped her throat instead of just fluttering like a retarded butterfly. I wasn't dumb enough to push her any further. Another lesson learned as a child: Don't push Mommy over the edge.

With a – admittedly overdramatic – sigh, I grabbed Alice by the hand and pulled her out of the kitchen and in to the hallway, not stopping to see if my other friends were following.

"You ok, B?" she asked quietly, her little feet scrambling to keep up with me. The incredible mix of emotions inside me was...headache worthy. As if I needed one more, since I was still dealing with a hangover. I couldn't decide on one emotion, butall of them were in the "bad" range.

We made it to the third floor, landing in record time. I opened the door to my room with a small thud and strode to my bed with wide strides before collapsing on my bed, face down. I let out another long, loud sigh, resisting the childish urge to scream. Loudly. I rolled over when the recycled air started making my face feel gross.

Alice was kneeling next to me on the bed while the other three stood just inside the doorway.

"Why wouldn't I be ok? Rosalie gets everything she wants, without protest. Same old, same old."

Angela made her way to the bed, sitting by my feet while Jessica and Lauren went to my closet and started taking things out. Already planning the packing process. I had a feeling I was going to be short a few outfits by the time this was all over.

"Ooooh." I heard a breathy squeal, unmistakably Jessica's. "Hey, Bella? You don't really wear that red, off-the-shoulder top, right?"

Angela and Alice shared an eye roll as I scoffed. "Just take it, Jess."

Eventually I dragged my ass off of the bed and started packing up some of my shit. They were packing up my bathroom while I was pretty much just throwing stuff from my dressers into my Kathy Van Zealand luggage. Looking around stealthily, I made sure no one was watching and that I was truly alone. Kneeling down onto my knees, I opened the last drawer of my dresser. My naughty drawer. The drawer that kept things like condoms, spermicide, lubrication, and two of my best friends. A pink rabbit (for the rare occasions where I actually had time to take my time and give myself pleasure...thoroughly) and a cheap ass vibrator called Frisky Fingers. No lie, that's the actual name. The first time I had used that one I had come very quickly and there was just so much...intensity. It was my go to when the need just became too great. I grabbed the pair of them and stuffed them in with the rest of my things. Those were too valuable to even accidently leave behind. I scooped out the rest of the things in the naughty drawer – including the condoms and a pair of sexy underwear that I bought at fifteen and had never worn – and began stuffing them into the bag too, when a knock on the open door startled me, making me drop the box of condoms with a thud. I looked up to see Mr. Perfect who was smirking, his Christmas eyes trained on the box by my feet.

Mortification, thy name is Bella.

He let loose a small chuckle, his gaze meeting mine and his mouth pulling in to a crooked half smile.

Holymotherfuckingshit. And I had thought he had looked perfect before. My ovaries were openly weeping right now.

"I just thought I'd see if you needed any help moving your things downstairs?"

I bent down, grabbing the box of condoms and throwing them in the bag with everything else, zipping it shut. I got back up, pushing my hair out of the way and cleared my throat. "Where's Rosalie?"

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and chuckled again. "Oh, she actually went to drop Emmett off. Said she wanted to catch up with him some."

"Makes sense." I nodded, gesturing a hand for him to come in. "The big bag is probably going to be heavy so I could use a bit of help with that one."

He came in, all long legs – Christ, those legs – and sinewy arms. So this was what inexplicable attraction was. On one hand I felt completely disgusted that I could have any sort of desire for someone Rosalie did. On the other hand, I didn't think any breathing female and a few select males would have blamed me.

"Alright." He nodded, leaning down and grabbing the bag, effortlessly slinging it over his shoulder and making his way back towards the hallway. He stopped once he hit the door way and turned back to me, flashing another one of those crooked panty-dropping-bend-me-over-the-desk-and-fuck-me-hard smiles.

"You coming?"

I sighed and mumbled. "Don't I wish."

His grin grew wider. "What was that?"

"Nothing." I grabbed the smaller bag and pushed myself past him, ignoring my crying ovaries demands, and led the way to Rosalie's old room. "Come on, slow poke."

So, that's it for this chapter, Hope you enjoyed. This is going to be a bit of a slow burn story. I'm not rushing into anything.

As always thank you to my beta pine and apple. You should go check out some of her stories because she is awesome and doesn't nag me to hurry up and give her the next chapter-though I probably give her reason to.

Now, I'm not the fastest updater in the world. I know this. That's why before I even posted the first chapter I had chapter two already written and beta'd and was well on my way into chapter three. I am aiming for bi-weekly updates. Now, the reason for this was to give you some rec's. Some of the things that I'm reading that often get in the way of my writing.

Into the Grey House by pdd912. Excellent and dark. All human. Hasn't been updated in awhile but I know the author and I know she'll get it done.

Edward Wallbanger by feathersmmmm. I probably don't even need to rec this to anyone since everyone seems to be reading it. It is amazing. Very funny, very much a slow burn cocktease. I love it.

The Unaccompanied Soul by JMCullen09 . This story never fails to make me squeal when I see an alert in my inbox. It is just so beautifully written and tugs at your heartstrings in the best kind of way.

Hide and Drink by Savage7289 Another one of my squeal worthy ones. This one is actually drawing to a close which makes me a little sad, but it's worth it. I'm not usually one for vampire stories for fanfiction (which I guess is a tad odd) but I'm glad I took the time for this one.

and

Elemental by TallulahBelle. Another one that I am so glad I took a chance on. It doesn't update as often as I would like it to but it is once again worth the wait. And another slow burn one. I'm starting to think I'm a masochist here. So so good. It mixes so many different things and each chapter just brings more and more...it's just something that everyone should read.

As always. reviews are love. I won't get mad if you press the review button. Heather's honor.


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